The Goddess Of Smile- The Painting shrouded in Mystery
The painting's secret is shrouded in mystery. It was briefly displayed at the exhibition and vanished just as quickly. Her smile was captivating, emanating a brilliance that surpassed even that of the Mona Lisa.
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Photo by Skitterphoto
I stand before the painting, my eyes fixed on it in awe. The
colours are so vivid, the brushstrokes so precise. I can feel the texture of
the canvas under my fingertips, rough and grainy.
The painting is a masterpiece, far surpassing even the
famous Mona Lisa. I am so captivated by it I don’t even notice the people
around me, all admiring the other works of art on display.
As I continue to gaze at the painting, I notice a note
beneath it. “This painting is not for sale, and no photography, please.” My
heart sinks a little - I would give anything to own this piece of art.
Nevertheless, I can’t tear my eyes away from it. There’s
something about the painting that draws me in, an inexplicable feeling that I
can’t quite put into words.
A woman standing nearby remarks on the painting’s beauty,
and I nod in agreement. “It’s incredible, especially the smile,” I say, my
voice barely above a whisper.
As I continue to stare at it, I can hear the soft murmur of
voices all around me, the shuffling of feet as people move from one exhibit to
the next.
And yet, in this moment, it feels like there’s just me and
the painting. I can almost smell the oil paint, the faint scent of linseed oil
lingering in the air.
It’s a strange feeling, being so enraptured by a piece of
art. But as I stand there, lost in thought, I know that this painting will stay
with me for a long time.
I stand tall, taking in the scene around me. The buzz of the
crowd behind me is almost deafening, all fixated on the same photo. No other
painting in the exhibition has stirred such intense interest.
“Oh, what a smile.” An elderly man says.
“Maybe therefore it hasn’t been offered for sale,” muses a
fellow art enthusiast. “I visit this exhibition frequently, yet I’ve never seen
this piece before. The organisers must be waiting for a publicity campaign to boost
its value.”
We all nod in agreement when a young girl to my left
interrupts, “No. There’s a comment written faintly to the side of the painting,
in tiny letters that almost blend with the background colour so that it won’t
be easily noticed.”
I retrieve my reading glasses and scrutinize the photo
closely. The letters are minuscule and barely visible. ‘One can buy a
painting, but not the smile. There is a story behind this. Jo Brinson.’
Suddenly, the nameless painter, Jo Brinson, comes to life in
my mind.
“I am curious to know why this painting is not for sale,” I
say, my voice echoing through the exhibition hall. The scent of fresh paint and
varnish fills my nostrils as I stand before the artwork. I can’t help but
wonder why it’s not up for purchase. “If it’s already sold, then the sticker ‘SOLD’
is enough to inform any of us potential buyers.”
The visitors around me turn to look, some nodding in
agreement with my statement. A woman to my left, who I’ve seen at the
exhibition multiple times, speaks up. “This is a decades-old picture,” she
says, her voice soft but assertive. I glance at the date near the artist’s name
and realise she’s right. The date shown is 29 May 1985.
“Your name, please?” I ask, feeling a connection with her as
we both stand entranced by the artwork.
“Oh, me? I’m Bernadette, manager of the exhibition,” she
replies with a smile.
“Nice to meet you, Bernadette.” A sudden desire wells up
within me. “I understand it’s a privacy issue, but can I get the artist’s
contact details? With her permission, of course.”
I’m sure there’s something special about this painting. Had
it not been for the seclusion of its location and the prohibition on mobile
phones and cameras within the premises, someone like myself, a regular attendee
of art exhibitions, would have already witnessed it. The “No Photography
Allowed” notice near the picture adds to the intrigue.
“I will, sure. But please give me some time,” Bernadette
says.
After leaving the exhibition, my mind is consumed with
thoughts of the painting day and night. I can’t shake the feeling that this
artwork could be more famous than even the “Smile of Monalisa” and break its
record. I take a day off work to return to the exhibition hall, expecting to
capture the picture in my mind and store for ever. Wasn’t it a way in the days
before cameras came into being?
My eyes widen in disbelief as I gaze at the empty spot on
the gallery wall. The painting, which had captured my heart with its vibrant
colours and playful brushstrokes, was gone. A jolt of shock twists my nerves,
sending shivers down my spine.
I inhale deeply, trying to calm my racing heart, but the air
is thick, making me feel lightheaded. I scan around, looking for Ms.
Bernadette, the organiser whom I had met the day before. The sound of my
footsteps echoes in the empty gallery, adding to the eerie atmosphere.
Finally, I spot her, and my relief is palpable. “What
happened to the painting?” I ask, my voice trembling with emotion.
“No, ma’am,” she replies, her voice soft and reassuring. “The
fact is, the owner of the art took it back. She didn’t say the reason. But we
value more the emotions of the creators than the money we make in this
business.”
I exhale a shy, and the sound is so loud, even I can hear
it, and most probably, Miss Bernadette.
“But I have good news, ma’am,” Bernadette adds, flickering a
soothing smile. “I have got the contact details, and the owner has agreed to
honour you with an interview.”
I can’t help but smile at this unexpected turn of events,
grateful for the chance to learn more about the artist and her work. The sound
of my footsteps recedes as I make my way out of the gallery, still feeling the
lingering scent of fresh paint and the excitement of the interview to come.
What is the tale behind the mysterious picture? I yearn for
my peaceful slumber leading up to the interview days. Impatience gnaws at me as
I wonder when I’ll lay my eyes on it again and learn the story behind that
enigmatic smile.
Are you, too, consumed by curiosity? Please remain patient,
if you can. I’ll certainly share my experience with you - but only once I’m
privy to the details. Stay tuned to this blog, or if you’d like to be notified,
follow this blog or my Facebook page.
All Stories on this Blog Site are purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to anyone or any incident is purely a coincidence. Copyright by Shrimant. All rights reserved.
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